They call it a temple of knowledge,
but the walls were never meant for thought—
only the careful curation of power,
where names are chiseled in Latin
and inheritance is mistaken for intelligence.
The gates are high,
not to keep the world safe,
but to keep the chosen ones in—
a factory of fathers’ sons,
daughters of old wealth
repackaged as prodigies,
spitting polished syllables over...
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